


This Night

by beautifullytragic



Category: Chenzel - Fandom, Wicked RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 16:16:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5212466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullytragic/pseuds/beautifullytragic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rambly jumbly one-shot of late-night tortured thoughts of Kristin's. Be kind, please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Night

**Author's Note:**

> Can I first of all, apologize for this writing, I just had a LOT of shit running around my head and this seemed to be the product of it and it doesn't really make any sense but whatever, ENJOY.

It was always the nights that were the worst. The seemingly never-ending silence that seemed to stretch into a dark abyss, filling her with everything that was the opposite to hope and love and just the feeling of being whole.

When Idina was around, during the daytime, she could try to convince herself that there was no other party, that the rings glinting on the brunette’s left hand weren’t a symbol of a promised eternal love and faithfulness. She could pretend that when Idina smiled at her, really smiled at her, it was because of feeling of overwhelming adoration and not the fact that they had been left alone for more than ten minutes and could use that time to their advantage.

Kristin has been alone before, although sometimes she struggled to piece together times when she had felt this this while being alone. The feeling that Idina, at this very moment, was lying in a different bed, in a different apartment, in a different part of the city, next to the man she had sworn to be forever faithful to, the man who she had given her life and her heart and who had given her a child, something Kristin could never biologically do. It felt like a form of torture, the constant churning of her stomach and the never-stopping whirring in her brain, as if everything had been taken over with complete silence and unbearable screaming at the same time. Everything was closing in on her, her mind didn’t even feel as if it belonged to her anymore, her soul felt foreign and detached, as if it had a new owner, which, she supposed, it did.

Idina had taken over everything that she was, everything that she had associated with herself, with being Kristin, was now tainted with dark hair and a wide smile and perfume that brought tears to Kristin’s eyes even thinking about it. 

They had never been friends, it had never really occurred to either of them to strike up a conversation with the other to find a common interest, they shared hurried conversations about the weather, or an explanation for turning up late to rehearsals with a small grin and a roll of the eyes. 

Then, all of a sudden, it went from acquaintances to too much wine at the birthday party of one of the cast, eyes catching, slightly blinded by the strobe lighting in whatever dark club it had been such a great idea to move to. More drinks and the gap between them grow closer, they stopped pretending to talk to other people, always standing facing one another, eyes tracing every feature of the other’s face, glinting, heads slightly rolling with the time of the pounding music, or the pounding feeling of the alcohol in their brains, one or the other.

“Hey! I’ve barely seen you all night!” shouted above the music, obviously a lie but neither willing to admit it. Space grew closer, meaningless conversation elicited laughter that was too loud, and too forced and the grip of Idina’s hand on Kristin’s wrist was slightly too tight and not tight enough, and she was occupying too much of Kristin’s personal space and then not enough. The mildly well-lit club turned to a not so well lit club as Kristin could feel herself being dragged through the crowd, away from the group they had come here with. The music seemed to grow louder but Kristin couldn’t tell if it was just the pounding her head or the pounding of her pulse in the palm that was pressed so close to Idina’s, fingers tightly intertwined as they pushed through the writhing people, to a corner that Kristin hadn’t even noticed.

Idina turned, and their eyes caught again. It had felt like a magnet, like some inevitable moment that couldn’t have been stopped. They were each a half of a puzzle and being so close in proximity seemed to draw the two halves into one complete piece.

Lips were on lips, rushed hands ran through hair, one hand setting on a waist, another settling on the small of a back. There was pushing and pulling, teeth caught in a frenzied, built-up mess and the heaving of their chests and the need for air forced them to pull back, a dazed look on their faces. 

It had always been an unspoken rule, this was private. It wasn’t information to be shared with anyone, it was something that was theirs, to Kristin it had always felt that it was the most natural thing she had ever done, and it amazed her that two people could both feel this unmistakable pull towards each other, which always seemed to end in frantic kisses and fumbles behind locked doors.

It wasn’t so magical when Kristin saw him though, smirking one day as he left Idina’s dressing room. Standing in the doorway, she paused, her eyes scanning over Idina’s flushed cheeks and messed hair as the brunette, obviously stared into her mirror, her lips moving so quickly it looked as though she was simply reciting her lines, going over the words in whatever chorus of whatever song she was having difficulty remembering this week. Kristin strained her ears slightly, trying to remain unnoticed, Idina’s hushed words becoming louder and more familiar as she became more focused on repeating them over and over, and it was only after Kristin turned away and was walking back to her own dressing room, that it dawned on her how familiar those words actually were, that Idina had been reciting exactly the words Kristin now whispers to herself until she falls asleep, a prayer, a plea for strength, for knowledge on how to go on when faced with what seems an unbearable situation to carry on with. 

What tortures Kristin at night though, the sight of Idina saying a prayer she said she never believed in, asking a God she wasn’t sure was actually there, pleading for a sign on how to choose, how to live a life in which she would be happy, where there would be no choice, asking for strength to make a decision. The question that filled Kristin’s entire being with a sharp painful and an unbearable feeling of someone clawing away at her insides, as though she was being turned inside out, her chest nothing but a hollow cave for something that didn’t belong to her anything. The question that kept her awake night after night, wrapping her sheets around her, trying to pretend that she wasn’t alone, was, what choice was it that Idina needed strength to help her make? The very thought of an answer to that question made Kristin feel as though she was felling down a dark, black hole, and the only way to save herself was to hold out her arms in front of her to stop the blow, but right now, she couldn’t even think of a reason to want to.


End file.
